Mine
by halfpsychotic
Summary: Maybe I was stupid for submitting enough to walk back into that house. Maybe, as I pushed open that goddamn blue door, I knew... I thought, this was the beginning of the end. Season 4 Ep 2 Spoilers.


I know that we've had quite a few after 4x02 stories pop up, but I thought of this immediately after watching "Emily" and decided to give it a go. It's just a short take on what happened after that door closed and they left us wondering. Rated M for mature things and swear words.

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Maybe I was stupid for submitting enough to walk back into that house. Maybe, as I pushed open that goddamn blue door, I knew... I thought, this was the beginning of the end.

She looked so... broken. At the top of the stairs, red-rimmed eyes. Her eyes were still so fucking beautiful. So much different than my Naomi. But was she really ever my Naomi? I couldn't help the thoughts that poured through my head, these were all lies. Summer was just a lie. She made no move from her post, deadlocked and unmoving at the top of the stairs. As my feet carried me, unwittingly, I couldn't help but think that this was how it would always go. Naomi would run and I would follow her, forever. I wasn't until I was within a foot of her that I let myself feel anything. Love was supposed to make you feel good and safe and happy, but all I knew in those seconds as I listened to her inhale a shaky breath was that I was just so fucking angry.

"I'm sor-" I can't hear it again, the rooftop dialogue was still all that rang through my ears. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ So I cut her off but pushing forward from the top step, careening us back against the wall right next to our bedroom. Ours. She doesn't fight against me and I can see what I look like to her, reflected in the pools of those goddamn beautiful eyes. I can't see anything but red, I can't feel anything but burning, hot red.

"Don't tell me you're fucking sorry." My voice is low, raspier than it's usual tone, but it breaks and it betrays what lies underneath all of the anger. Just in one second, one slip, I almost lose it and that furthers the anger to a boiling point. "Don't tell me you're sorry when you **lied**" I don't know how we got in this position anymore, but my hands are at her wrists and I feel like I could be hurting her. I want to hurt her so bad. I shift and push my hipbone between her legs, and despite it all, despite the slight fear in her eyes - at losing me or at me in general - she fights back a groan. I push her harder into the wall. This isn't me. Or is this what she's made me to be? Is this what we've come to now?

I can feel her pulse beating through the grip I've got on her wrists. I can almost see it in her neck, because I can't look her in the eyes anymore. I don't want to see that fucking colour anymore. I grind my hips forward again harshly. The way her breath hitches in her throat, the way she quivers, this isn't my Naomi either. It's like she can read my mind, or she can read it in my face, and she almost sets her jaw like my Naomi and she struggles a little against my hands. "I didn't mean it." But the words, they betray her too, and her voice is so fucking small that she's still a different person. And we're both so fucking broken.

I pull her back by the wrists, just enough to slam her back into the wall again and again. Twice, with my arms and my wrists and I wonder when it was I got so strong. I dare to move my eyes from her pulse point back up to those blue pools, and it's my jaw that sets then. I kiss her hard on the mouth and she whimpers, doesn't respond for a second, before she submits to me with no curve of her lip. This isn't giving in, this is payback, this is what we both need. I release her wrists to bring both my hands up to frame her face, that flawless face and I can feel my hands dampen and I realise she's crying. And then I realise that I don't care, I've cried enough and it's her turn. My hands grip around her face, slide to almost choke around her neck and I use that as my leverage. To pull her off the door, to push her back into her bedroom. Ours.

I don't let her remove any of my clothes. The baggy jumper, the jeans, she doesn't get that right right now. I practically rip off her clothes, there is no lust still, this is anger. I bite at her lip hard enough to taste the slight tinge of metal, to make her fucking hurt too. She doesn't resist when I get her down to her knickers, doesn't let a word slip when I toss the remnants of the bra I've now destroyed across the room. She just lets me shove her back onto the bed and straddle her, my mouth, my teeth at her neck. She submits and this isn't my Naomi. I bite enough to illicit another whimper, to leave my mark, but she doesn't protest. She's shaking under me, her hands don't move around me like they usually would, but I can feel the fear through my lips on her neck, it's radiating through her. She shakes and I glance up again and she's still crying, and it lessens my anger. But not enough for me to stop.

I want my mark all over her. I want my Naomi. I bite into her clavicle, over her ribcage, leaving little red welts that normally I would feel sorry for. They'd bruise in minutes, if not seconds, with the amount of pressure applied from my jaw. My Naomi bruises so easily. It's only when I've got my teeth against those perfectly shaped hip bones that I taste the salt, and open my eyes to the drops that moved over the taut skin. I don't know when I started to cry, though there is a path of small droplets down her flat torso.

She sees me hesitate, the confusion at the fucking tears falling from my eyes and she reaches for me. She twirls my hair in her fingers, gently, and I see everything I need to dissipate my anger in those fucking eyes. I collapse against her bare stomach, a sob ripping through my entire body, and she doesn't hesitate now. Naomi, my Naomi, leans up and wraps her arms tight around me, embracing me and holding me to her like we are supposed to be. Through our mutual sobs, I hear her strangled words "I'll make it okay. Please... let me make it okay." The grip tightens and this time, I appreciate it. I know she's holding onto me for dear life. "I love you so much."

And I can't do anything but hold onto her middle, my fingers digging into the flesh that belongs to **me**. This is mine. She is mine, and she always will be.


End file.
